


Hung Up on My Baby

by abyssobrotulaCronos



Category: Saint Seiya
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Car Accident, Deathmask is called CARLO in this AU, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Sex (?), M/M, Mask has broken bones and they fuck, Milo is a good friend but nothing will shut him up, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 17:51:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8855140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abyssobrotulaCronos/pseuds/abyssobrotulaCronos
Summary: "Long short story: the car in which they were heading back was followed and Aioros, who didn’t drink, lost control due to the snow. Nobody got heavily injured, but Milo broke a few ribs, Camus had a concussion, Aioros broke an arm and Carlo, who was sitting on the front, broke both legs."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is a small piece I wrote because I realized I hadn't written anything in centuries and this fandom needs more love. Mask (or Carlo) is a soccer player and plays on Milan, but that's not widely discussed.  
> This fic is really light and very, very sappy. You may think Mask is OOC because he's very gentle, but it's a modern AU and I think when he's with Aphrodite he becomes very soft.  
> I hope you guys like it!

Aphrodite never ran in his entire life. Never, after nobody. He was always wearing expensive shoes and sometimes even heeled boots that didn’t deserve being smashed against the floor with such violence and he hated being sweaty in public, so that was a plus.

Twenty-four years of being alive and not a single second spent running yet there he was, quickly paying the taxi driver and leaving the car with unnatural speed. His Armani leather sneakers splashed against the puddles on the street as he gathered strength to dodge the paparazzi and cross the hospital main door which was being guarded by huge security men.

The moment they saw him, in all his disheveled glory, they let him in.

“Mr. Aphrodite. How was your flight?”

“Jonathan, please spare me.” he answered as politely as he could while on the verge of an anxiety attack and crossed the huge hall towards the reception. He presented himself and the receptionist let him in immediately, telling him there would be a doctor waiting on the floor where he was headed to.

Once in the elevator, he breathed out for a few seconds, taking the moment to look at his reflection on the mirror. His messy bun had strands that were escaping, without his sunglasses he looked like a zombie with dark circles under the eyes. That was a first, too.

He had been visiting his brother in Stockholm for a few days when, by the end of the week, he got the call from one of Carlo’s teammates: they had won a match and decided to celebrate in a private pub. Looking back, that had been a shitty idea. Who the hell leaves home the day all the paparazzi will aim towards you more than never?

Long short story: the car in which they were heading back was followed and Aioros, who didn’t drink, lost control due to the snow. Nobody got heavily injured, but Milo broke a few ribs, Camus had a concussion, Aioros broke an arm and Carlo, who was sitting on the front, broke both legs.

He would be able to play again in a few months, though. Aphrodite couldn’t imagine what would have happened if he had to stop playing, soccer was his passion.

The elevator stopped with a faint ‘ding’ and he stepped out into the white hallway, decorated with beautiful and probably expensive plants. The room was room number 17 and he didn’t have any trouble finding it, mainly because there was a young doctor in front of the door.

“Good evening.” Aphrodite greeted with a small voice.

“Good evening Mr. Aphrodite, nice to meet you. I’m Dégel, we spoke on the phone earlier.”

Dégel was taller than him, but that wasn’t exactly rare. He had bright red hair and gentle eyes behind the lens of his glasses.

“How is he?”

“He woke up a few minutes ago, wouldn’t stop cursing until I told him you had arrived.”

Aphrodite smiled, relieved. If Carlo was trash-talking it meant he was just fine.

“Can I see him?”

“Of course, I’ll give you two half an hour before someone comes to adjust his medication.”

“Thank you a lot.” The Swedish man squeezed his own hands inside his coat’s pockets in relief. How he missed his husband.

Dégel stepped aside and Aphrodite slowly opened the door, being greeted with wide, gray eyes and a look on Carlo’s face that seemed as if he had just been caught stealing cookies from the pot. Which was basically it because he was picking on one of the IV’s.

Dite didn’t find strength to be mad at him for being so reckless, instead he approached and hugged him tight, his arms around the neck where he knew there were no injuries. Carlo immediately held him back, relief in his eyes. He inhaled and instantly knew things weren’t so bad now he could smell Aphrodite’s fancy cologne.

Aphrodite was less thrilled, though. He had been scared and hadn’t been able to think straight for 6 hours, the time spam it took for him to organize himself, apologize to his brother and fly the hell over to Italy.

Now he felt like a balloon that was filled with too much air, but instead of exploding someone gently opened it up and let it wither. That was good, his headache was beginning to fade away.

“Can you wait a bit before scolding me?” Carlo joked without letting go and he found himself able to snort in his neck. That stupid Italian man managed to worry him beyond imagination and still made jokes by the end of the day.

“I hate you.”

“I missed you.”

Aphrodite had been away for a week and half, he could understand very well the feeling. He loved Albafica and loved bickering with him about their opposite interests, in the end they were out for dinner together or catching a good movie anyway, they knew how to solve their differences.

The older Persson claimed Aphrodite was too shallow. He said his brother cared too much about clothes and spent too much time on his hair. Aphrodite, on the other hand, always complained that Albafica was boring! He barely laughed about jokes and, in Aphrodite’s words, “jerked off to French movies”.

Both were being hypocrites, though, because Albafica spent as much time as Aphrodite taking care of his skin and the younger Persson was a cinema lover himself. They worked it out.

But waking up next to a huge, warm body, was easy to get used to and was one of Aphrodite’s favorite things in the entire world. He would lean over Carlo’s back and kiss his shoulders, rest his head on his arm and smile in delight when the other man woke up and embraced him in a bear hug.

They were together for almost six years.

Their first meeting was in the college hall just after a lecture. Aphrodite could barely speak Italian and Carlo loved seeing him struggle with the language. He was with his best friend Shura, whom Carlo knew because of Aioros.

He had never really spoken to Shura properly, but immediately went to greet him when he saw Aphrodite. He was infatuated on sight! Shura thought it was weird, but never commented and the next week he showed up with an extra ticket for the game.

Carlos ended up dropping out because he was offered his dream job: a place on the official Milan team. Nothing big. He never counted on college anyway.

Aphrodite continued his languages major, by the time he only spoke four languages. Now, fueled by his hate for Italian, he spoke seven and could understand more than ten. Carlos thought it was fucking fantastic, though he missed the Swedish man mispronouncing the words and getting really angry over it.

“I missed you too. Albafica has a shelf life of one week.” Aphrodite smiled and his face was shining, Carlo could see that now the hug has parted. His hands were still firm on the other’s.

“I know you were planning on staying a few days more.”

“Don’t apologize.”

“I wasn’t going to,” He smiled, amused. “Will you be my sexy nurse?”

“No sexy nothing while you’re recovering.”

“Come on!”

 

 *

 

Getting Carlo home was the hardest part. He wouldn’t stop complaining about being on a wheelchair and Milo mocking him wasn’t helping either. Camus, who was always being dragged everywhere by the Scorpio, kept scolding him, but that never worked. He was the only non-member of the team who had been directly involved in the accident too, all because Milo wouldn’t give up on flirting with him and despite accepting the invitations to go out for months now, he never gave Milo a single kiss.

Aphrodite only wondered why, it wasn't due to Milo's lack of trying.

“Do I really have to stay on this stupid wheelchair?”

“Carlo, you can’t fucking walk,” Aphrodite answered. “What are your options?”

“They didn’t even let me try!”

Camus only sighed as Milo, even while helping Aphrodite with the door of their penthouse, laughed out loud and screamed about how Carlo was a joke waiting to be told.

“Why don’t you sit your ass on the couch while me and Milo cook some real food for you?” Aphrodite suggested and knew he had finally shut the beast down when Carlo’s eyes shone with desire. It didn’t matter if the hospital was the most expensive one in Rome, hospital food would always be tasteless.

Aphrodite finally sighed in relief, allowing Milo to start the dinner while he took a quick bath and changed into more comfortable clothes. Milo was a great cook, it had been his first option before realizing he was talented in the soccer field. His parents owned restaurants in Greece and he grew up in the kitchen learning even how to make delicious sweets. His desserts were the best!

When Dite got back, Camus was in a quiet conversation with Carlo. He made his presence known.

“We were talking about how you guys are going to stay in Italy for a few more months.” Camus said.

Aphrodite and Carlo lived in an apartment in New York when the team was off season, the penthouse in Italy was for when the Italian man had to stay in the country to train and his husband was always with him since his job could be done in any part of the world. Aphrodite loved New York, though. That place was made for him, he would never leave if it depended entirely on him. He always said Italy, in spite of being charming, was always full of loud-mouthed idiots and cars parked on sidewalks; unnerving.

New York was electric. Their apartment on Manhattan had been carefully taken care of by Aphrodite when they moved in and now was undeniably cozy despite all the chaos outside, it felt good to have a place to rest when you lived somewhere in constant buzz.

But he liked the chaos anyway. And he loved not being recognized and being able to have dinner together and just minding their own business without press or fans bothering Carlo.

It was going to be a long stay, but he could do it for his husband. Aphrodite hummed.

“Dite was counting the days to go back to New York,” Carlo spoke carefully. “We were supposed to meet there when his trip ended.”

“You know it’s not a big deal. It was when you weren’t injured, it isn’t anymore.” Aphrodite was sincere. God knew how much he wanted to leave Italy, but he didn’t even care for the country anymore, he just wanted to see the man he loved healed and ready to play again.

Of course he wouldn’t say that kind of thing out loud, but his actions were enough. Staying in Rome for a year more than needed was worth way more than words.

“I can see why you like New York so much,” Camus agreed. “But I like Italy as well, in fact Milo convinced me to spend the off-season here. It’s messy like Paris, but people are warmer,”

Dite winced. “I don’t like Paris either.”

“Isn’t he a spoiled little thing?” Carlo laughed out loud, his hands resting on his knees. His legs were propped up on pillows and his large body took the entire couch so Aphrodite sat on the arm of the sofa, stroking Carlo’s hair. Camus was sitting on an armchair.

“I miss France already,” The redhead ignored Aphrodite’s complaint.

“I miss _New York!_ ” He whined again, but was interrupted when a blond head popped up on the kitchen's doorframe.

“Weren’t you supposed to be helping me?” Milo glared at Aphrodite.

“I changed my mind.”

 

*

 

When Milo and Camus left (in a _cab_ because Camus refused to drive even though he was a hundred percent okay) Aphrodite got Carlo to the first floor and into the bathroom. Helping him to shower was not easy. He kept going on about being treated like a baby and refused to let the blonde man wash him at all.

Aphrodite couldn’t understand. “Carlo, we always wash each other in the bath.”

“This is different, we are _not_ trying to have sex!”

“Will you at least let me watch you?”

“Alright.” The Italian man huffed and proceeded to fetch the sponge from his husband’s hands. When he finished he begrudgingly allowed Dite to help him with the towel and to get him to bed.

“Are you gonna act like a brat every day for six months?” Aphrodite asked amused when he was finally comfortable on a bunch of pillows on their huge bed. The bedroom had a view to the rest of the city since their house was on a higher part, it looked almost ethereal. At least the penthouse in Italy was beautiful.

“Does it turn you on? Then I just might.” Carlo replied, grinning.

“You are positively gross.” The Swedish man laughed along and rest his hand on Carlo’s chest. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too. Sorry about this mess.”

Now they were finally in the quiet of their home they felt how tired they were. Aphrodite hadn’t stopped to think properly ever since the phone call back in Sweden and Carlo had just left a hospital bed, that wasn’t how he planned welcoming Aphrodite.

Their encounters after trips had always dinner and a good massage involved in the end of the night, it didn’t matter how long the other had been gone. And two weeks, in their opinion, was a long-ass time.

“It wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t know that was going to happen. How’s Aioros by the way?”

“Shura dragged him back to Spain yesterday.” Carlos wiggled his eyebrows.

“He told me. They are still tiptoeing around each other.”

“ I hope a broken arm is enough to make them realize they are losing time.”

“That just terrible,” Aphrodite cupped his lover’s face with a hand. “But I agree. And you need to shave.”

“I might let you do that for me.” He answered in a raspy voice, the meds were already kicking in.

Their eyes met for a second and suddenly they were kissing, Aphrodite on his side and carefully propped up on his elbow, the other arm supporting itself on Carlo’s wide chest. One of his hands held Aphrodite’s arm and the other caressed slowly his back, warm fingers playing with the hem of his wool shirt. The thermostat was turned on, so exposed skin wasn’t a problem.

The blonde man deepened the kiss, his hand now stroking Carlo’s strands of hair and tugging with enough force to feel good. He whined when one large hand squeezed his ass and slipped lower to stroke his perineum over the jeans.

“Carlo. You just left the hospital.” It was the hardest thing Aphrodite ever had to say in his entire life. The other began kissing his neck and sucking at his collarbone to punctuate his next sentence.

“Bullshit. Sit on my face.”

He stopped biting his lip and stared at him with huge blue eyes. “What?”

“Aphrodite, come on. Sit on my face now.”

That wasn’t an unusual request, but Dite was entirely convinced they wouldn’t have sex at all during Carlo’s recovery time, let alone the first day.

“What if you get hurt?”

“I’m getting hurt with blue balls right now.”

Aphrodite took a few seconds to decide, but Carlo’s hand touching him exactly where he liked made him choose wisely. He slowly took his sweater off, then his Versace pants and his underwear.

Carlo stopped in his movements to stare at his husband’s body, eyes lingering on his thighs and hard cock. His mouth watered, he really was a lucky man, Aphrodite was perfect with his long hair framing his face and cascading along his shoulders and lower back.

“C’mere.”

He pulled the younger man closer and coaxed him to open his legs, straddling his chest. Aphrodite’s cock was faintly touching his lips and the sight of his husband with spread legs and pink cheeks was enough to make him reach out and open his shorts, stroking his own member.

The other arm brought Aphrodite even closer and he proceeded to alternate between sucking and licking his penis and rimming his ass with a skilled tongue. The blonde man was moaning louder and louder, indicating he was nearing orgasm, but Carlo was having none of it.

“Ride me.”

“Carlo you’re fucking injured-” Aphrodite muttered, but instantly proceeded to grab the lube on the drawer and finger himself. Carlo gently replaced the fingers with his own and began a furious pace, forcing Aphrodite to lean against one of the bedposts, squeezing the wood with tight fingers. “Fuck me, fuck me now.”

Carlo thrust up once more and guided the younger man to his cock, sheathing it inside his ass in one clean stroke.

“Let me do it.” Aphrodite whispered, kissing Carlo and supporting his upper body on his chest. He began moving slowly, already used to the initial sensation and rocking to tease the other. Soon he was bouncing and biting his lip in order not to make much noise even though the house was large and the neighbors would probably not even hear it.

Carlo groaned and watched as the blonde curls moved wildly, their owner’s face twisted in pleasure, skin glistening with sweat. A second look to Aphrodite’s face and body was enough to make his balls tighten and with a deep voice he announced he was about to cum.

“Do it, do it, do it.” Aphrodite chanted, ready to go as well, hips slapping against muscled thighs. His hands went to the pillow behind Carlo’s head and he brought together their bodies, feeling Carlo’s heat and how his abdomen twitched before he came.

Aphrodite followed, propping himself up before falling again, the intensity of the orgasm weakening his arms. Carlo, after a few seconds, managed to rock his hips slowly without putting pressure in his legs so they could enjoy the last bits of it all.

Eventually he tired out as well and kissed Aphrodite’s shoulders tenderly, searching for his face in between all that hair.

“I love you.” He whispered when he found those deep eyes barely open.

“Stop being cliché.”

Carlo laughed, feeling genuinely happy in almost two weeks. He embraced Aphrodite and squeezed, earning a huff of protest. His skin was moist with sweat and now semen, his hair plastered to his forehead and his face red with the effort, had it been different circumstances he would hide and fix the look immediately, but not in those moments. He instead opened a stunning smile that shone and spoke millions.

“I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.” Carlo spoke again and Aphrodite saw in his eyes it was true. He adjusted himself properly on Carlo’s – now soft – member and stared, eyes glistening.

He kissed his husband and the Italian man felt against his own chest Aphrodite’s heart in a frenzied beat. He kissed his shoulders again and again and again, until they agreed falling asleep like that wouldn’t be nice and had to part.

The bath was uneventful, but Carlo didn’t say a word when Aphrodite washed the entirety of him. In bed, this time properly dressed to sleep and warm under a duvet, Aphrodite lay his head on the other’s chest, rather used to do it the other way, Carlo’s head on his chest and his arms protecting the bigger man from the rest of the world.

They slept wonderfully and if Carlo dreamed of a golden man who anchored him down on earth he didn’t say a word in the next day.


End file.
